asing song--the screaming jay bearing an unfavorable
comparison with the thrush--and the modestly-attired nightingale
having furnished, in all ages, a brilliant example of virtue
unadorned. The nightingale, however, leaving before the climate has
become objectionable, we must praise its musical accomplishments
rather as being those of a distinguished guest, or foreign _prima
donna_, than of an indigenous artist. But we have another bird who
_is_ always here, facing winter's blasts in addition to summer's
bloom, who in voice stands unrivaled; no competitor approaching any
where near him for fluency, richness, and liquid melody of song--to
wit, the blackbird.

This negro melodist seldom spares his lungs at all until winter is far
advanced into its New Year months; and even amid the bitter mornings
of January, his rich, unfaltering notes can sometimes be heard. His
coat is a glossy black, always cleanly brushed, and in the case of one
family, sometimes called the "Red-wing," with a gorgeous scarlet lapel
on either side.

TIME ENOUGH.

Two little rabbits out in the sun;
One gathered food, the other had none.
"Time enough yet," his constant refrain;
"Summer is still just on the wane."

Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate:
He roused him at last, but he roused him too late.
Down fell the snow from a pitiless cloud,
And gave little rabbit a spotless white shroud.

Two little boys in a school-room were placed;
One always perfect, the other disgraced.
"Time enough yet for my learning," he said;
"I will climb by-and-by, from the foot to the head."

Listen, my darling--their locks are turned gray;
One, as a governor, sitteth to-day.
The other, a pauper, looks out at the door
Of the alms-house, and idles his days as of yore.

Two kinds of people we meet every day;
One is at work, the other at play,
Living uncared for, dying unknown.--
The busiest hive hath ever a drone.

Tell me, my child, if the rabbits have taught,
The lesson I longed to impart in your thought.
Answer me this, and my story is done,
Which of the two will you be, little one?

THE MOUSE WEDDING.

Dick Sly was the smartest mouse in Mousetown. He knew any kind of a
new trap that was set to catch him, and he always warned the rest. The
houses in Mousetown are called "holes," you know. Next to the hole
where Dick lived with his parent